


Five Times a Couple Bonded Over Cut-offs, a T-shirt, and Sloppy Joes.

by zarabithia



Category: Avengers (Comic), DCU - Comicsverse, Marvel 616, Spider-Man (Comic), Young Avengers
Genre: Community: 18coda, Community: dcu freeforall, F/F, F/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-16
Updated: 2009-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See Title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times a Couple Bonded Over Cut-offs, a T-shirt, and Sloppy Joes.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a line in a ridiculous song, but also fits the "lust" prompt at dcu_freeforall for Dinah, and the leitmotif prompt for Diana, at 18coda.

\-------------

 _"But you're getting to me in those cut-off jeans, t-shirt, and sloppy joes."_

\-------------

  
It's not the first Valentine's Day that he's been late.

Okay, it's twenty-four hours later, so in all honesty, they've long since passed "late." He's not "late" with Valentine's Day - he's completely missed it. He's the worst husband in the world. But as much as it sucks to admit it, it's not the first Valentine's Day Peter's _missed._

He hadn't intended to. He'd made plans to celebrate, but the only proof of those plans are the crumpled receipt from the florist shop crammed in the left pocket of his jacket and the even more crumpled box of chocolates in his right hand.

He holds the box out with a sheepish smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Mary Jane pushes mute on the remote and turns to face him from her spot on the couch. She's wearing an over-sized blue t-shirt over a pair of white pajama bottoms with blue hearts in them. Peter has no doubt that if he'd made it on time to take her to the dinner date they'd planned, he would have arrived to see her in a form fitting dress that accented every gorgeous curve of her body.

Peter knows she would have preferred that kind of date, but she looks just as good to him in the t-shirt.

She looks even better she opens the box and smiles at him. It's an _I forgive you_ smile, which Peter should know well. He's caused that smile to cross her face more time than he deserves. "White chocolates?"

"I had roses to go with them," he says lamely. "They um, kind of got scattered between a semi's windshield and Doc Ock's crotch."

She's picking through the chocolates now, trying to find some that aren't too squished to eat, but looks up briefly enough to wrinkle her nose in disgust. "My chocolates better not have gone anywhere near anyone's crotch."

"They didn't!" Peter assures her. "Um...maybe mine?"

"Nowhere I haven't been before," Mary Jane says between a laugh and a bite.

"Yeah. Look, MJ, I'm sor -"

"I ordered Chinese for myself," she interrupts. "There's not any left over for you, but there is some leftover sloppy joes from yesterday's lunch in the fridge. You should heat yourself up some and then come snuggle with me on the couch."

He knows that look. It's the one that tells him not to argue with her.

He doesn't even remotely deserve her. "Sounds like a great idea. I'm starved."

"I bet you are," she says, sympathetically. Mary Jane leans back into the couch, balancing her squished box of chocolates on her stomach as she waves him into the kitchen. "Oh, and Tiger? You might want to change too. It's a little too early in the year to run around in cut-offs."

Peter gives a rueful look at his pants as he opens the fridge. Cut-offs describes them well.

Oh, well. Food first, then a shower, and a change of clothes.

And then _maybe_ he and MJ can get around to having their celebration.

\-----------  


  
August is never a good time to be doing anything in the city, unless it involves being naked or being in an air-conditioned building - preferably _naked_ in an air-conditioned building. Since the air-conditioning in the apartment is broken, however, Clint would normally be all for stripping down and sitting in front of the large box fan that is _supposed_ to be circulating air.

His current guest makes that impossible, however, so the best Clint can do is station that useless box fan in front of the open windows that are doing absolutely nothing to cool down the apartment.

Of course, being stuck in the kitchen on lunch duty isn't helping, since the increased temperature of the kitchen is combining with the humidity of the August air to wrap a wool blanket around his lungs.

"You know what would have been a good idea for practicing our skills?" Kate says as she props the bow up next to the quiver.

Clint gives their lunch a final stir and tries not to stare at the person he is _supposed_ to be mentoring as she readjusts her ponytail, fighting with the sweat-drenched strands of hair sticking to her neck.

"A pool," she finishes, seeming not to mind his lack of an answer.

"Arrows under water are always an interesting challenge. Sure you're up for it?" Clint struggles not to picture the woman in front of him in a bathing suit. The cut-off jeans and sleeveless t-shirt she's wearing are bad enough. Christ, he's a horrible mentor. He's pretty sure _Steve_ never lusted after the Young Avengers when he was trying to train them. He's also pretty sure Steve would kick his ass, if he were still around.

"In this weather? Are you kidding?" She sits down across from him at the kitchen counter and takes the offered plate. "Unless, of course, you were planning on getting the air conditioning fixed anytime soon."

"Had it fixed last week," he grumbles.

She's cute when she blushes. Not that she isn't cute the rest of the time. "The moving target was a good idea. Having it crossing paths with the air conditioner unit? Not such a good idea."

Her hands wrap around her sandwich and lift it towards her mouth. Such dainty, cute hands - he hadn't expected that, out of an archer.

"If you hadn't missed -"

"I didn't miss." Those dainty, cute hands of hers toss her sandwich angrily back onto the plate. "I _stopped_ the target."

"And took out my air-conditioner."

"It was an acceptable casualty."

"Says the woman complaining about the heat!"

Kate gives him a decidedly un-dainty glare as she picks her sandwich back up. "Maybe I just wanted to see if those rumors about your purple swimming trunks are true."

He couldn't have heard her correctly. Hearing must be going out on him. _Again._ "Not my color anymore, remember?" he says with forced lightness.

She shrugs. "That's a shame - it is _my_ color. We could have matched."

Clint is overcome with the sudden image of Kate in a purple bikini and he knows, that no matter how bad of a mentor it makes him, next week's session _will_ take place in a pool.

\----------  


  
By a "second chance" Jason is pretty sure that the littlest Robin didn't mean "here's your opportunity to fuck my ex."

If Jason had more of a conscience where his family is concerned, he might have felt guilty. But in his family, the kind the took turns slitting throats - literally and figuratively - and whose every kind deed is only some kind of mind fuck to force someone into a debt they can't repay...well, Jason doesn't think he really has to feel guilty about it.

Besides, the littlest bird let her go. Turned her away. Tried to get her not to be Spoiler anymore.

Not that it worked. Her Spoiler costume is hanging off the same chair as his own costume.

It's that stubbornness, that attitude of "no, fuck _you_ " that she has, the kind that doesn't come with Jason's brand of bitterness, that draws him to her.

He doesn't love her. He won't let himself.

She doesn't love him. She's not sure he won't turn out to be one of them.

But they work, and Jason _does_ feel guilty when he wakes up from his regularly scheduled Tuesday nightmare, and feels her stir beside him. He's as quiet as he can be, as he slips out of bed and grabs the nearest pair of boxers and slips outside for a smoke. She doesn't like the smell. He doesn't quit for her, but he does have the courtesy to smoke outside.

Apparently, he isn't quiet enough while he's moving around, because a few minutes later, she's standing in the doorway to the fire escape.

He grinds the cigarette into the fire escape before tossing the butt into the ground below. "Sorry I woke you."

"Not your fault." She stretches and his t-shirt comes up to a level that's almost obscene.

It's a nice sight, and Jason's sorry to see her _stop_ stretching.

"Thinking of them?" she asks softly.

"No," he says immediately, because he wants it to be true. But she was a Robin once, and she probably sees what direction of Gotham he was looking towards tonight.

"Sometimes, I miss Cass," Stephanie tells him.

A small confession, and Jason sees no reason he can't reciprocate. Just one of them - he can admit that much. She did, and it isn't a weakness if your opponent shows his cards first, right?

She isn't an opponent, he reminds himself sternly.

"I miss Alfred," he admits.

"Everyone misses Alfred," she consoles him.

But Jason shakes his head. "Tuesday was sloppy joes night," he explains. "He made them just for me, you know. A kid in a ratty t-shirt and dirty cut-off jeans wasn't used to the fancy food Bruce and Dick loved."

So Dick hadn't been used to it, either. _Fuck_ Dick. Jason isn't in the mood to be charitable to him. Not tonight.

"Maybe we should make Tuesday _our_ sloppy joes night."

"Steph, neither of us can cook."

"True." She laughs, and suddenly those cut-offs and ratty t-shirts seem a million years away, instead of a few miles. "Guess we're stuck with our pizza."

"I like our pizza," Jason tells her, as he bends forward to kiss her.

\-------------  


  
Dinah really doesn't understand her husband. The fishnets and leather barely capture his attention - which she supposes is good considering their working relationship in the League - but let her toss on one of his university sweat-shirts and a pair of cut-offs to work in the flower bed outside their home, and he can barely keep his hands off her.

It's a weird kink to have.

Still, Dinah doesn't complain. Her husband's been gone a whole week, after all, and she's missed his affections.

"Glad you came back," she says, snuggling up next to him on the couch once the reunion is complete. The cutt-offs are hanging off the back of the sofa, while the t-shirt lingers behind in the dining room.

The bra? Dinah thinks it's probably in the kitchen. Or perhaps it got lost in the dining room, too.

"Of course I came back." Barry nuzzles her neck with a little more enthusiasm than the average man would have so soon to finishing a reunion.

Dinah really does love her Speedster's body, and its complete lack of a refractory period.

"Mmm. Hal mentioned that the prince was very smitten with you," Dinah teases. She laughs into his chest at his annoyed look.

"Hal Jordan has a big mouth," Barry mutters.

"Ah, but I heard the prince was quite handsome," Dinah continues to tease as she traces her fingers down his side.

"He was blue," Barry tells her. "And had tiny yellow triangles all over his body."

"All over?" Dinah raises an eyebrow and pinches the inside of his thigh lightly. "You got close enough to see him _all over_?"

"No." Barry shifts, so that his hands can better cup her shoulders and behind. "He wore...very little clothing. Kind of hard not to notice him. _All over._ "

"Naked princes. How come the JLA never had anything fun like that when I was _single_?"

"I don't know. I'm just glad we figured out some other way to forge peace without offending their culture's customary ... methods."

Dinah tilts her head back. " _Methods_? Why does methods sound so dirty when you say it like that?"

"He wanted to seal our peace through sex." It's a mutter into the nap of her neck.

Dinah tries not to laugh, really. She's just not very successful at it. "Hal didn't tell me that."

"That's surprising, because Hal thought it was a barrel of laughs." Barry narrows his eyes. "So did Ollie."

"Well, of course Ollie did." Dinah unsuccessfully swallows down another laugh. "You reached an agreeable compromise?"

"Ollie had sex with him instead," Barry says with a shrug. "Apparently did a decent enough job that the culture was willing to agree to the terms."

Dinah doesn't try to hold back at that point.

When she's done laughing, she stretches and says, "You know, I made us dinner."

Barry's hand protectively slides over her rounded stomach. "I'm sorry. We should have eaten first."

Dinah shakes her head. "I wasn't that hungry. _The baby_ wasn't that hungry." She places her hand over top of his. "And to be fair, you taste a lot better than my attempts at cooking do, so it was time well spent."

Barry sits them both up as he rises. "How about I make us something, then?" he asks, diplomatically. "Still craving sloppy joes?"

"Like I have been for the past three months," Dinah says.

Barry kisses her on the forehead, and heads for the kitchen as Dinah reaches for the cut-offs.

\--------------  


  
She definitely has a type, Lois thinks with internal amusement. That type, apparently, is godlike beings who weasele their way into mere mortals' hearts through performing the simplest acts that are far more appropriate on their _human_ counterparts. Lois comes to this realization during the lunch that she is supposed to be having with her current godlike partner.

Any person passing by can tell that Diana doesn't belong in those cut-offs, and that the t-shirt is a bit out of place. She's a _princess_ for crying out loud.

But only Lois truly knows how out of place that dribble of sloppy joe sauce around the edges of Diana's mouth truly is, and it's when Lois spots that bit of sauce that she realizes that she's bound to Diana in a way that has nothing at all to do with the lasso carefully tucked away and out of sight.

Not that they haven't had plenty of really interesting times with that lasso...

"I thought you were a vegetarian," Lois says, handing Diana a napkin discretely.

Well, as discrete as Lois has ever been able to manage.

Diana gives her a funny look as she wipes the sauce away. "One of the founding goddesses of Themyscira is the goddess of the hunt," she reminds Lois. "What kind of gratitude could I offer to Artemis if I were a vegetarian?"

Lois shrugs. "Don't ask me. That was the rumor coming out of the Department of Metahuman Affairs when you quit."

Diana laughs. It's a rich, deep sound that makes it clear that she does not belong among them, that she belongs to a bloodline every bit as alien as Krypton, only less far away. "Not exactly the best source for information, Lois."

"True enough." Lois leans back in her chair and taps the lunch table idly. "I've just never really paid attention to what you _eat_ before."

"But you are now?" Diana asks.

Ah, she wasn't the goddess of truth for nothing. It's impossible to get anything past Diana, and Lois wonders why she even tries.

"Maybe." Lois shifts uncomfortably in her chair. But Diana's sharp gaze doesn't wander. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure _where_ we're going, Diana. We've been together a while, but..."

Diana places the napkin on the table and wraps one hand around Lois's knuckles. "The Amazons know that there is affection, and that there is love, and that one does not necessarily accompany the other."

"That tells me a fat load of nothing."

"You're the one getting over a relationship," Diana explains. "Where we go, and how far we go, is up to you and will be at your pace."

"Clark's moved on, and so have I. I'm not fragile, and I won't break," Lois grumbles.

"I'm well aware of how not-fragile you are," Diana says in reply.

Ah, a leer from a princess. Always a treat.

"Maybe you need a reminder," Lois leers right back. The question of where they're going can wait...because if the ball is in her court, then Lois still doesn't know if she wants to aim for the basket or pass the ball.

Right now, she'll settle for the safety of dribbling in place, because with Diana, the act of dribbling is far more exciting than with anyone else - including Superman.

"Maybe I do," Diana agrees.

The advantage to eating with a princess is that she always pays the bill.

The advantage to eating with Wonder Woman is that they never have to worry about hailing a cab on their way home. If that is another indication of the "type" of lover Lois prefers, well, Lois prefers to overlook that tiny detail.


End file.
